


"Dad"

by OnyxBird



Series: The Best Lies [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Humor, Neal Caffrey improvises too much, Peter Burke is learning to go with the flow, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxBird/pseuds/OnyxBird
Summary: On an undercover intelligence-gathering mission, Neal surprises Peter by taking their cover story in an unexpected direction.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke & Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: The Best Lies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817608
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. Part 1

"Just remember that the best lies carry an element of truth." – Neal Caffrey, "Pulling Strings"

The company party was in full swing, and Neal and Peter did their best to blend in. The case was fairly run-of-the-mill. They were making slow headway in unearthing an embezzler, but the culprit had covered his tracks so carefully that it was difficult even to ascertain exactly where he was siphoning the money from. The team hoped one of their suspects would let something slip during the company's 25th anniversary bash.

Peter was easily keeping his cover as new accountant Peter White, but hadn't been able to draw any confidences out of his coworkers so far. He'd made sure to get Neal an invitation to the party, hoping his charming partner would have better luck. An hour into the gathering, he desperately wished he could have brought El—she was so much better at party small talk than he was. He had just taken advantage of his empty glass to extract himself from a painfully boring conversation about sales figures for one of the company's myriad widgets and doodads when he ran into Neal at the drinks table.

"How's it going?" asked Neal.

"If I have to hear one more time about the new advertising campaign, I may go insane," said Peter. "It doesn't even make any sense!"

"It's advertising," said Neal, shrugging, "It doesn't matter if it makes sense as long as it gets people to buy the product."

The peace of chatting with Neal was short-lived. An executive's wife was making a beeline for Neal, with several other people in tow. Neal groaned slightly when he saw her coming. "Oh, god, no. That must be the daughter she was insisting on introducing to me. I really hoped she was joking about that." He noticed Peter's raised eyebrow. "What? You said hobnob, charm people, and get them to talk to me! I was being charming like you asked—how was I supposed to know she'd try to set me up with her daughter?"

"Well, lesson learned, I guess" said Peter, trying not to laugh. It wasn't helpful for their mission to have Neal warding off would-be girlfriends or their mothers, but it was certainly amusing to see the always-suave Neal Caffrey as uncomfortable at a party as he was. On second thought, he wasn't looking forward to being trapped in a conversation with that woman, either. They'd met earlier, and he had gotten the distinct impression that she considered mere accountants to rank somewhere around medieval serfs on the social ladder. Neal's good looks and charm had obviously landed him several rungs higher in her regard.

"There you are, Neal, dear," she gushed, beaming at him, "I thought you'd disappeared just when I wanted to introduce you to people." She glanced at Peter with a much dimmer smile. "Hello again, Mr..."

"White" supplied Peter.

"Mr. White. Yes, of course." She turned back to Neal, flirtatious again, "Neal, dear, I just realized that I never got _your_ last name! How silly of me!"

Neal was about throw a monkey wrench in the works. Peter didn't know how he knew that, but he did. There was just something about the way Neal straightened up and flashed his most dazzling smile that warned Peter that all their carefully-laid cover stories were about to be turned upside down, and it was too late to do anything about it.

"So, Neal what?" she simpered.

"Neal White." Neal gave his listeners a split second to start connecting the dots before wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulders and asking impishly, "You don't see the family resemblance?" He stage-whispered to Peter "I don't think they do, Dad. I _told_ you, you should have worn your hat."

Peter silently cursed Neal for putting him in this situation, but he'd had enough experience dealing with Neal's ad libs to cope. _Oh, what the hell_ , he decided, and said the first thing to pop into his head as he looked at Neal's dark hair: "Well, you _do_ take more after your mother."

Neal burst into laughter. "Mom has some strong genes," he commented, eyes twinkling.

"Very strong genes," agreed Peter, gravely.

Neal leaned conspiratorially towards their puzzled but interested audience to let them in on the joke: "I'm adopted."

The ice was broken in a roar of hearty laughter. Neal fielded most of the following getting-to-know-you questions, every inch the charming, gregarious imp, allowing "Dad" take a more reserved role. Peter learned that he and his wife had adopted Neal when he was 12, after he'd bounced from foster home to foster home, and that Neal had been an established troublemaker who he'd wrangled back onto the straight and narrow (Peter enjoyed corroborating _that_ part of the tale—gently needling Neal with truthful commentary and anecdotes that fit quite plausibly into Neal's fictitious childhood).

The rest of the party went incredibly smoothly. In the space of one conversation, Peter's image among his "coworkers" had gone from asocial workaholic to reserved, modest family man. This new impression was only reinforced by Neal talking as if his "dad" had hung the moon and Peter's (futile) attempts to rein in the story before it got too elaborate and out of hand.

By the end of the evening, they had heard way more confidences, speculation, and general company gossip than Peter had expected. There had been no earth-shattering revelations, but they had picked up several solid leads—a good night, all-in-all, and considerably more fun than he'd anticipated. He and Neal stepped into the van to touch base with the rest of the team...and were met by huge grins from Diana and Jones. He'd forgotten that they'd been listening in the entire time.

"So, Peter, why didn't you tell us you and El had a kid?"


	2. Part 2

Peter and Neal climbed into Peter's car as the team dispersed for the night. Peter was grumpy after Jones' and Diana's merciless teasing about "his kid." Neal was blessedly silent for once, although he was still smiling to himself way more than Peter liked.

As they passed the first major crossroad, Peter noticed Neal glance out the window with a slightly puzzled expression. The next intersection earned a slightly longer look and a deeper frown. By the time they stopped at a red light, Peter was ready to ask Neal what on earth was wrong with him, but Neal turned to face him before he had the chance.

"OK, Peter. Was I really so bad that I'm getting sent to my apartment without supper?" he asked, one eyebrow rising slightly.

Peter looked at his CI like he'd lost his mind. "Neal, what are you talking about? And I've had enough of the 'dad' jokes."

"Well, I'm pretty sure you told El that I would be coming back with you for dinner, but unless we're taking a _very_ indirect route, you're driving to June's. Thus my question: have I made you so mad that I'm being sent home without dinner?"

Peter had to stop and think for a moment. "I _did_ tell El that, didn't I? She wanted us to try that...uh...that fancy stuff from the new caterer."

Neal nodded. "Yeah. That 'fancy stuff.'"

Peter sighed and found a place to turn around. Once back on track, he glanced warningly over at Neal and pointed a stern finger at him. "Now, when El asks about how the event went, you are not going to tell her about your crazy adoption story, understand? I have heard quite enough about it already, and I want a nice, relaxing dinner."

"Yes, 'Dad'." He backpedaled at Peter's glare. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding! I won't tell Elizabeth; I promise."

After a few minutes of driving in silence, Peter couldn't help himself. "Why did you do that, anyway? You had a cover story, and I'm pretty sure it did not involve me adopting you."

"True, but I also hadn't said anything yet that conflicted with the adoption story, either. And there wasn't much chance that _you_ would have said anything, since our original covers didn't know each other. Besides," he said, with his most winning smile, "it worked! You said people weren't talking to you; now they love you!"

Peter frowned, "Neal, that's not what I asked you. I asked why you threw away your original cover for this wacky adoption story."

Neal was quiet for a few seconds, looking out the window. Then he answered quietly, "I didn't like that woman's attitude."

Peter gave him a confused look. "What woman? Mrs. Warren?"

"Yeah," said Neal, "She was acting like I was the best thing since sliced bread, flirting, trying to introduce her daughter to me...and she acted like you weren't even worth saying 'hello' to."

"Well," said Peter, "I don't think it was personal. I don't get the impression that accountants really show up on her social radar. Charming, well-dressed young men who like to talk about wine and art do." He shrugged. "Just the way things go. I don't really care for talking to snobs who spend all their time finding ways to flaunt their wealth, either, so it all works out in the end."

"Well, it bugged me. So, I decided if she wanted to talk to me so much, I'd make sure she had to be a little more civil."

Peter mulled this over for a moment. "So let me get this straight. You made up a new cover story on the fly—one heavily involving me, which means I was forced to participate in your little improvisation—all because you thought some rich snob was insulting me? Or actually, insulting my _cover_ , who isn't even a real person?"

Neal fiddled with the door lock, avoiding eye contact. "Well, I wouldn't phrase it quite like that..." He shifted in his seat.

"Neal, was my summary wrong?"

"...No." Neal's eyes flicked quickly towards Peter, trying to assess just how ticked-off Peter was about this little revelation. He was pretty sure Peter didn't consider this a good reason for changing cover stories in the middle of a job.

"Well, Neal, I hate to tell you, but I really doubt adoptive-dad-accountant ranks a whole lot higher than plain old accountant on the Mrs. Warren social scale. So, I'm not going to hold my breath for any dinner party invitations just because you made me into adoptive dad of the year. That's probably a good thing. I bet she serves that 'fancy stuff.'"

"Probably," agreed Neal, with a relieved grin, "but poor 'Mom' is going to miss out if you don't go. You know she likes the 'fancy stuff.'"

"Then it's a good thing 'Mom' has her catering business, so she doesn't rely on me getting invited to these shindigs. And, speaking of 'Mom,' may I remind you—"

"I am not going to tell El about any of this."

"That's right."


	3. Part 3

Peter opened the door, and a delicious smell wafted out.

"Mmm. I'm glad I didn't get sent home; I definitely would have been missing out," said Neal.

"Neal," said Peter, warningly.

Neal smiled innocently, "My lips are sealed; not one word to El. Can we go in and eat now?"

Elizabeth heard the door and came over to greet them. "Hi, Hon. Hi, Neal." Peter got a kiss, and Neal a hug. Then, she planted herself firmly in front of them, one hand on her hip. "So. I just got a call from Diana," she began. Peter looked like a deer in the headlights. "Would you like to explain yourself?"

"Uh..." hedged Peter, trying to think what he'd done wrong that Diana would have been calling about, "Hon, could you give me a hint what I'm explaining?"

El gave him a reproachful look. "Honey," she began gravely, laying a hand on his arm, "why didn't you _tell_ me we had a son? This is not something a woman should have to find out from her husband's coworkers."

Peter had opened his mouth to respond when he heard the snickering—no, make that _giggling_ —from behind him. He turned around to find Neal leaning against the wall, trying desperately to muffle his laughter. Peter's glare just made him laugh harder. Satchmo had ambled over to be petted and was now eyeing Neal with confusion and some concern. Head tilted, forehead wrinkled, ears pricked forward—after a moment, he looked back towards Peter and El, as if looking for reassurance that Neal wasn't being tortured by some invisible tickling monster. El had thus far valiantly maintained her straight, concerned-wife face, even in the face of Neal's uncharacteristic giggling fit, but Satchmo's expression finally cracked her.

She reached down to pet the now even more confused dog, "It's ok, Satchmo. Neal's ok. At least I _think_ he's ok—Neal, sweetie, you're scaring the dog." She looked back at Peter. "Now I _really_ want to know what happened at that party."

Neal finally choked back his laughter enough to speak. "Sorry, Satchmo." He looked at El, "Peter swore me to secrecy on the way home. I knew you'd find out, but I thought you'd pry it out of _him_ , not hear it from Diana!"

Peter finally rallied in his own defense: "Why would I expect to need to tell you these things? I thought mothers usually knew when they had kids. If one of the parents doesn't know, it's usually the father."

"Well, when it's done in the traditional manner, yes," said El, "but according to what _I_ heard, Neal is adopted. And I certainly hope so; I am not old enough to have a child his age." She held onto her hands-on-hips posture for a few seconds before dissolving into laughter. "Come on, Peter, admit it. It is funny. Diana said it went pretty well for the operation, too."

Peter sighed, "Ok, it was kind of funny, and it did end pretty well." His voice dropped to a stage whisper, "But don't tell Neal that. It would only encourage him, and you know where that leads."

Neal grinned behind him, where he sat on the floor scratching Satchmo's ears. "Hey, 'Mom,' wasn't there some plan to have 'fancy stuff' for dinner? 'Dad' wasn't really much more specific than that. Can we eat now?" he asked, turning on his best puppy eyes.

Peter shook his head at El. "He has to be your kid. He did not inherit a taste for that stuff from me. And he doesn't even like baseball."

Neal jumped in, "Well, there were those baseball _cards_ you were telling Mr. Johnston about."

"What baseball cards?" asked El.

"The ones 'Dad' caught me forging in the basement when I was fourteen. You must remember. 'Dad' was furious."

"Ohhh. The ones you forged. Naturally. You and Peter are going to have to refresh my memory about that incident while we eat. Neal, why don't you set the table while Peter and I get the pot roast and the 'fancy stuff' from the kitchen?"


End file.
